And so Darkness I Became
by gryffindoring
Summary: "Their blood splattered against the walls, the screams of terror could be heard down the hallways, their souls were violently ripped from them, all for the entertainment of a nation." Follow Vera Mikaelson as she's Reaped into the 48th Annual Hunger Games, where she learns how to fight her inner demons, as well as escape the one's who threaten to hunt her down. [T for violence.]


_Chapter One_

The rays of early morning sunlight peaked through the curtains, the morning was quiet and almost peaceful. Except, that was a lie. It was not peaceful, or it wasn't going to be. All around the District it the air seemed to be tense, someone could slice a knife through it. It was the day that came every year, no matter how much the Districts tried to ignore it.

Reaping Day.

I saw, cross-legged indian style on my bed. The cool breeze that wafted through the window ticked my skin, causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh. It was still fairly early in the morning, my parents weren't even up yet. My baby brother had not woken either, though he had been up most of the night. His name was Archer and he was only nine months old. His birth was unexpected, considering I just turned sixteen last week. It was a surprise to have Archer, but a blessing nonetheless.

My family and I live in District Six, so we weren't as prosperous as some of the other Districts of Panem, but we get by.. My father had a decent paying job, my mother stayed home to take care of Archer, and I went to school. A mundane life, but it was satisfying. Placing my bare feet on the wooden floor, I padded quietly across the hallway to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I turned on the shower, letting the water steam and get warm before stripped myself of my bed clothes. I washed my body quickly, lathering a lavender scented soap onto my skin, washing shampoo into my hair. After about ten minutes I was finished, wrapping a cotton towel around my frame.

Looking in the mirror, I wiped away the steam, looking at my reflection. My red hair, damp, rested against my shoulders. Brown, nearly black eyes stared back at me. My lips, the lower slightly larger than the other, were placed in a permanent pout. With a small sigh, I retreated back to my room, finding the Reaping outfit that my mother had picked out the night before. The Reaping wasn't for a couple more hours, but I was restless, I needed to keep moving. The dress was blue, blue like the color of the sky in the afternoon, with a lace design on the hem. It was a birthday gift, so I figured I could use it for this particular occasion.

Towel drying my hair, I brushed through it, untangling the knots that stung each time I combed through them. Hissing as I yanked out another knot, I pulled my hair into a ponytail before twisting my hair into a bun. My bangs brushed against my forehead annoyingly, so I pinned them back. My face, void of make-up, seemed fine, so I got up and headed downstairs to get some breakfast. As I reached the kitchen, my dad had beat me there.

"Good morning, Vera." He greeted from the table, his hair disheveled from a night of sleep.

"Hi, Dad." I responded, grabbing an apple from the counter before sitting across from him. "How'd Archer sleep last night?"

"Oh, he was up for a couple hours, four I think." My dad yawned. I could tell he was tired. From work, staying up with Archer, he practically screamed exhaustion.

I hummed in response after taking a large bite of apple. "Today's the day."

Someone had to say it, since it seemed like Dad was trying to avoid the subject entirely.

"Yep. Reaping Day," He looked nervous, tense. Frowning, he met my gaze. "You worried?"

Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, I tried to seem nonchalant. "Not really. I mean, kind of. Yeah."

Dad tried giving me a reassuring smile, but it seemed more like a grimace. After a few more moments of awkward silence, I got up from the table, slipped on my shoes and shrugged on my jacket. Without a word, I stepped outside and began the walk toward Cassia's house, my friend since I can remember. We were best friends, but polar opposites. Where I had red hair and brown eyes, she had blonde with green. Where I was blunt, she was polite. How we managed to stay friends this long, I'll never know, we've gotten into more fights than I can count on two hands.

Most of them were because of my big mouth.

Once I reached her house, I grabbed a pebble from the ground, and threw it at her window. "Cassia! C'mon, open up. Don't make me come up there and drag you down by your hair!"

"Would you shut up? My parents are still asleep, Vera. Do you want me to get in trouble?" Cassia poked her head out of her window, frizzy blonde hair and all. When she got mad, she narrowed her eyes and scowled, her face contorting into something that looked like a character out of a book.

"Then get your frizzy ass down here. I don't have all day!" I called back to her, not lowering the volume of my voice.

A string of profanities followed in response, causing me to throw my head back with laughter. After about five minutes, Cassia practically stomped out of her house, wearing a simple white dress for the Reaping. She scowled at me, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," I mused, draping an arm across her shoulders as we walked down the street. Cassia elbowed me in the side, grumbling to herself. She was really not a morning person, especially on a day like today.

"How can you be laughing right now? It's Reaping Day, Vera. Two kids are going to get Reaped and possibly get murdered, and you're laughing?"

"My false optimism is me trying to cope with this mess, Cass. I know what happens today, it happens every year," I muttered, eyes cast downwards. We were headed toward the town square, we the Reaping was held. People from the Capitol were beginning to set up. A large projection screen, lights, cameras, all so the Reaping could be broadcasted through the entire country of Panem.

"How's Demitri?" I asked, raising a brow. Demitri was Cass' younger brother, he was only fourteen.

"He's...fine. Nervous." Cassia signed, pulling at a thread attached to the hem of her skirt. "He's worried about me, himself, he could hardly go to sleep last night."

Children from all around the District began to file toward the square as the Reaping neared. Boys and girls from ages 12-18, dressed in their nicest clothing for the special occasion. Cassia and I went to the end of the line, waiting quietly as each child was checked in. As my turn rolled around, I held out my index finger for the Peacekeeper. I hissed as she pricked my finger, a drop of blood immediately forming on the pad of my finger. She then pressed my finger to a piece of paper, scanned it, then called out "Next!"

Grabbing Cassia's hand, I lead her to the section for our age group and gender. Cassia's breathing was quickening, her pupils were dilated, I was sure if I was the only one standing next to her I could hear her heart beat. Squeezing her hand, I tried to reassure her as best I could. There was nothing I could say. There was no point in lying to her. She could get Reaped, I couldn't pretend like that wasn't a possibility. As the crowd got larger and the sun rose higher in the sky, my stomach twisted into painful knots. My laughter had long since died down, all I could do was stand and wait.

"Welcome, welcome, to the Reaping for the Forty-Eighth Hunger Games!" The Capitol Escort, Ofelia Reyes, greeted from the stage. She looked ridiculous. Her hair was an obnoxious shade of green, lavender pencil skirt and blouse to match. Her make-up consisted of matching green and purple swirls across her forehead and down her cheekbones. One of the many Capitol fashions that didn't make sense to me.

"Before we start, please turn your attention to the screen." Ofelia gestured toward her left, where the screen was positioned.

Panem's national anthem began to play, followed by the sound of President Snow's voice. The video showed happy families, hard working people, all thanks to the Capitol and what it did for Panem. It spoke of the Rebellion, the destruction of District Thirteen, and how now, The Hunger Games is an annual reminder of the war that was plagued upon the great nation of Panem.

The knots twisted in my stomach again, I resisted the urge to vomit.

As the video concluded, Ofelia clapped her hands excitedly. "Don't you just love that? Anyway, let's get started. As always, ladies first." Ofelia's heels clicked and clacked across the stage as she reached the large glass bowl. Inside were the names of each girl, twelve to eighteen, in the District. If her name was called, she would participate in the Hunger Games. Ofelia shoved her hand in the bowl, digging her around for emphasis, before pulling out a thin slip of paper. Returning to the microphone, she unfolded the paper for calling out.

"Vera Mikaelson!"

For a second, I swore my heart stopped beating. I heard the gasp that brushed past Cassia's lips. I refused to meet her gaze because surely I would see tears in her eyes. Silently, almost in a daze, I pushed my way through the crowd. My feet felt like they were made of lead, it felt like there were cotton balls in my ears.

"Up here, dear, hurry along now," Ofelia coaxed, taking my hand and leading me along the stage. "And now for the boys."

My eyes swept across the crowd, trying to find my parents and Archer. I found them, their expressions nearly shattered my heart. I looked away, refusing to cry. Not right now, not here, not in front of everyone.

"Demitri Holloway!"

No.

My District partner was Cassia's little brother. Little fourteen-year-old Demitri. I heard a sob come from the audience, no doubt coming from Cassia. Demitri walked slowly up to the stage, looking terrified. He was too young, this wasn't fair.

"Now, both of you, shake hands." Ofelia's hand pressed against my shoulder, forcing me to turn toward Demitri. He offered me is hand, I grabbed it, my own trembling, and shook it.

"Our tributes from District Six. Demitri Holloway and Vera Mikaelson!" Ofelia announced, her purple stained lips stretched out in a large grin. A half-hearted applause was her response. Immediately, Ofelia ushered Demitri and I backstage into the Justice Building, the doors closing promptly behind her. Pushing me inside an office, I would be given fifteen minutes to say goodbye to my family.

It wasn't enough time, but it was all I got.

After about two minutes of me pacing around the office, my mother burst into the room, her cheeks already stained with tears. She embraced me, nearly suffocating me right there.

"Mom. Choking, not breathing." I gasped, but hugged her back all the same. She pulled back from me, cupping my face in her hands.

"Very, baby, I'm so sorry. So sorry." Tears fell from her cheeks. I lifted my hands to wipe them away.

"Mom, mom, it's okay. It's okay." My voice cracked as I finished speaking. The lump in my throat was almost painful. I forced myself not to cry. I needed to be strong for them.

"You fight, okay? You can try and fight. Try and win." Mom brushed the hair out of my face, seeming frantic. "Come back home, you understand me?"

Only one out of twenty four tributes wins. Only one comes home. The odds aren't exactly in my favor. "Yeah, mom. I'll fight to come home. I promise I'll try."

I hugged my dad then, who handed Archer over to my mom. He was trying to be strong, too. "Dad's don't cry," he says, "I need to be strong for you."

Kissing the top of Archer's forehead, I hoped that I would be able to see him grow up. All too soon, it seemed like visiting hours were over, my parents were forced to leave. My mother screamed for me and I screamed back, telling her that I'd be okay. Once the door slammed close, I let the tears fall. I was heading into the snake pit, walking toward the gates of Hell. I was being forced against a kid I had grown up with, along with twenty-three other kids to come out alive.

The odds were definitely not in my favor.


End file.
